Meet Me in Smallville
by spectroscopes
Summary: Eternal sunshine, Superman. Clark/Lois.
1. Prologue

**Story Title:** Meet Me in Smallville  
**Writer:** Interstellar  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Eternal sunshine, Superman. Clark/Lois.  
**Author's Note:** OK, this is the deal: I am in love with _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_ right now, and I thought that if I twisted the premise a little it would make a fun Clark/Lois fic. I may just be crazy. Let me know. Also, I think I have characterisation issues -- so criticise away.

**Meet Me in Smallville**

**Prologue**  
_I need your lovin', like the sunshine  
Everybody's gotta learn sometime_

28th September, 2011.

Back in Metropolis.

I'm not sure why here. It seemed as good a place as any to start over now that everybody is gone. My new apartment feels so empty today. I thought I brought more back with me. I found this journal at the bottom of one of my unpacked moving boxes. There's nothing in it but my initials in one corner — I don't even remember buying it.

I need to get a job: a day job, and a life I guess. Maybe I should give Lana a call, see how she's doing. We could give it another go, one last fling, now that that's all out of the way, now that I know what I'm doing.

At least, I know what I'm doing with one half of my life — the rest all feels so sparse, I don't know.

I don't know why I came out to Smallville today. Just sitting out in the cornfields. Is this how I'm supposed to occupy my time when I'm not helping people?

When do I help people anyway? I don't remember the last time I saved someone who was in trouble. I guess I don't have that half of my life as figured out as I thought. Maybe I'm just kidding myself with this. It wouldn't be the first time.

Who is that girl?

The sun is in my eyes. I can't see her face.

The Talon has all been redecorated now. I guess the new owners weren't big on Lana's decor. When was the last time I was in here anyway? I don't recognise any of the faces: they all fade and blur around me now. Is this even my town anymore? Is there a place on Earth that's my home?

There she is again. I think it's her. She is sitting across from me, emptying sugar into a large cup of coffee.

She smiled at me: a terse smile which asked me why I was looking at her. It ... burned. I looked away.

Maybe I should move back into my parents' farm.

No, I should stay in the city.

I'll meet somebody in the city.

* * *

Clark took the bus back into Metropolis, for no reason except that he was apathetic and in no rush to get home. He stood at the stop in the fading sunlight, and waited until the girl from the coffee shop sidled up to the stop. She nodded her head in acknowledgement, and then stood with her hand on her hip until the bus came.

"Can I sit here?" she said, after their eyes met for a fourth — not that he was counting — time.

Clark looked around him. There was nobody else on the bus. He looked back at her, and she raised her eyebrows.

"OK," he said. "Um, yeah." He shifted self-consciously up in his seat as she sat beside him and kicked her feet up on the seat in front of them.

"So why were you in Smallville?" she opened.

"I, uh, grew up there." He looked out the window across the fields, not wanting to meet her eyes and have her see how drawn he was to her. He swallowed and looked down at his hands, and then chanced a glance in her direction. "What about you?"

"Oh, my cousin used to live there," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

"Used to?"

She laughed. "Yeah I guess it does sound a little weird," she said.

Silence lapsed between them.

"So —" he began after a moment, but she interrupted.

"It's just that you look so familiar," she said, and then added hastily, "and that's not me coming on to you, by the way."

"I —"

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know my cousin?" she said suddenly. Clark raised his eyebrows, feeling a little out of breath. "Chloe Sullivan?" she said, "She went to Smallville High?"

Clark opened his mouth and then closed it again, taken aback. "Yeah," he said, frowning, "yeah, she was in my class."

"That's how I know you!" she said, enthusiastically. "I must have run into you going to see her or something." She nodded to herself, and pressed her lips together. After a moment she added a little more quietly, "Small world."

"I'm Lois, by the way," she said, sticking out her hand. "Lois Lane," and then, as Clark shook it, "wow, good grip."

Clark smiled, sheepish, and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck: "Clark Kent."

He took a breath, and let his eyes flick back over to her, then put his head on one side. "I just —" he began, and when she turned her eyes on him he faltered. "Well, I just — would have thought we would have met sooner," he said, "I mean, I know Chloe pretty well."

"Maybe you forgot," she said, with a mischievous smile and a quirk of the brow.

"I don't think I would forget you," he said, shaking his head gently.

She drew her eyebrows together, and then frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Clark's mouth fell open. "I — nothing. I didn't mean —"

"No," she said, "go on. What, am I _annoying_ you?"

"No!" he said, holding up his hands in a surrender. She just shook her head: the sun was behind her now, setting the tips of her hair on fire -- red sparks which trembled and burnt in his heart. He was invincible, and terrified.

"Whatever," she said, rolling her eyes.

Clark swallowed, biting back on his molars, and just turned away. He adjusted his glasses, and looked out of the window.

"Hey Kent," she said, after a moment. Clark looked at her sidelong. "It's Kent, right?" she said, after a moment.

"It's actually Clark, but —"

"Whatever," she waved his comment away. "I just wanted to say, um, _Clark_: that was a little crazy of me. I apologize."

"Don't, uh, don't worry about it." Clark pressed his lips together — why was he stuttering? Who was this girl who made him falter, who scared him to death, who begged with her eyes to be forgiven and didn't even realise that she was?

"I guess I just woke up on the wrong side of bed," she said. Clark could empathise with that. She added, more to herself, "Been doing a lot of that lately."

A strand of hair fell in her eyes as she looked down into her lap, and she blew at it from her mouth. Clark wanted to lean over and tuck it back behind her ear — no, too intimate. He looked away again, and closed his eyes: there she was, too — or a photograph of her, a splash of colour against the grey pictures of the rest of his life.

He blinked his eyes open. Why? Why would he want that memory?

"I, uh," he looked down, and already regretted what he was saying, "I had some things I wanted to think about."

She looked over at him. "You wanna talk? I'm a great talker." She paused, and added, "I can listen too."

He looked at her, wide-eyed, and she pressed her lips together in understanding, "But I'm really not the person you want to talk to about this." She nodded, and then punched him on the arm: "I'll see you around," she said, and then added with a wink, "Smallville."

Clark just stared as she walked down the bus.

* * *

The Daily Planet: a great Metropolitan newspaper.

They have been advertising for reporting positions. I worked on small newspapers and freelance to make rent while I was travelling. It's in the city, and I will always know what's going on.

It makes sense.

And there's something else — something I can't describe. It's the rotating, glowing globe. It's the architecture. When I walk past it, I feel like I am coming home. Something is calling me, like something in a dream half-forgotten. I don't know.

Who was that girl, anyway?

* * *

"Clark Kent, meet Lois Lane."

Clark felt his heart squeeze in his chest, and he turned to face the woman he would be working with. She only quirked an eyebrow: "So," she said, with a half-smile, "we meet again."

"Oh," said Perry, and Clark looked back at him. "You two know each other?"

"We've met," said Lois, studying Clark's face. "In Smallville."

"Great!" Perry said, clapping Clark on the back. Clark feign falling forwards, and grabbed his glasses as they threatened to fall off his nose. When he looked up, Lois was wearing a sceptical expression, and he coughed.

"Lois," Perry continued, "Kent here is your new partner."

Lois raised her eyebrows. Clark caught a second glimpse of that fiery sunlight in her eyes. "Partner?"

She thought Perry was threatening her, Clark realised: she thought Perry was telling her she needed supervision. He swallowed, not knowing how to use this information to defuse the situation.

"Lois." Perry's voice was a low growl: now he was threatening her.

Lois glared at him for a few more moments. Then she seemed to relax, and step down. "Fine," she said, throwing up her hands and glancing sidelong at Clark. "Fine."

"So, what are you like my stalker?" she asked, when they were at her desk.

"What?" Clark was taken aback.

"Well you know," she said, "You're in Smallville, and then you're here. I'm sure you'll accidentally lease the apartment next to mine as well."

"I didn't know you were going to be here," he said, defensively.

"I have to warn you," she said flippantly, booting up her computer, "I have a third-degree black belt. I don't want to have to hurt you, but you're really barking up the wrong tree here."

"I'm not a _stalker_," he said, getting frustrated.

She looked up at him then, with that mischievous half-smile which told him she was kidding. Clark let his mouth fall open, and he frowned behind the thick lenses of his glasses.

"Listen," Lois said after a moment, when he was settled at his desk across from hers. She was still typing, not looking at him, but something in her voice told him that this was important. "It's not easy for me to say this," she said, "but I feel like — I don't know, like I have to." She paused for a moment, then added, "Sorry, I'm embarrassing myself."

"What?" he said, pushing her, looking over his computer monitor at her.

She glanced over the top of hers, and then looked back at the screen. "I'm sorry about how nuts I was when we met the other day. I'm not usually like that."

Clark smiled, although she couldn't see it. "I didn't think you were nuts," he said.

All he would have heard, if he were human, was the tapping of her fingers against the keys on the keyboard. As it was, all he heard was that, and a small, barely-audible intake of breath.

* * *

"So," Lois pulled the strap of her bag up over her shoulder and tapped a few keys on her keyboard, locking her computer. "Do you want to get a drink? There's this bar down the street, you know, the Ace o' Clubs. Or maybe," she pressed her lips together, and then said, "you could come back to mine — to talk."

Clark looked up at her, and he saw her falter a little.

"You know what," she said, and threw her hands up, palm outward, "forget I said anything. Totally unprofessional."

"No," he said, almost desperate to take hold of the moment which had just slipped past him. "No, that sounds great."

* * *

"So," Lois said, handing him a cold beer, "I promised myself I wouldn't drink after I got kicked out of college — but that didn't really pan out." She paused, and then added, "Not that I'm an alcoholic — because I'm _not_. I could stop if I wanted to." She closed her eyes and put a hand to her forehead, "OK, that's a place I really didn't think that comment would go to."

Clark smiled. "It's OK," he said. "I know what you mean."

"Do you?" she said, and her gaze was an accusation: how could you?

Clark opened his mouth, and then frowned at the realisation: "Yes."

Lois nodded, seeming to turn this information over in her mind.

"You know what the embarrassing thing is," she said later, when they were sat together on the sofa, Lois's feet in Clark's lap as though they weren't total strangers. He looked over at her, and she bit her lip. "The embarrassing thing is, I don't remember so much about that period of my life — you know, dropping out of university. I can't even remember where I lived."

She shook her head, and then laughed a little to herself. "Listen to me," she said. "I'm telling you all these things about myself that I don't even tell my cousin, and we've hardly met."

"Maybe," he said, looking at his lap. "I feel like I've known you my whole life already."

Lois snorted in laughter then, and buried her face in her hands. Clark looked over at her, hurt, and she tried to straighten her mouth. "It's just," she said, "tell me you didn't mean that to come out like that."

He stared, and then blushed. "Oh," he said, "I guess it is a little —"

"Trite?" she offered. "Cliché?"

"I wasn't —" he stammered, "I didn't mean to —" He breathed out in a frustrated sigh, and then picked her feet up, swinging them round onto the sofa and standing up. "I should go," he said.

Lois stood up, and faced him, pressing her lips together. "Sorry," she said, "it is late." She paused, and then said, "Do me a favour, though?"

He half-turned to look back at her.

"Meet me on the rooftop of the Daily Planet after work tomorrow," she said. "I want to show you something."

* * *

She was there before him, her back towards him, face towards the fading sunset.

"Lois," he said, staying towards the middle of the roof.

She smiled, and turned around, leaning back against the wall. "Come over here," she said, holding out her hand.

He took a few steps towards her, and then stopped, remembering himself. "I can't," he said. She raised an eyebrow. "I'm, uh, scared of heights," he explained.

Her mouth quirked then: just a little laughter at his expense. He didn't mind. He didn't mind anything she did. "Come on," she said, shaking her hand, indicating for him to take it. "If you fall, I'll catch you. I promise."

He stepped over to her then, looking over the edge of the wall down to the street below, feigning fear. Lois just smiled at him out of the corner of her eye. "Look," she said, indicating the skyline. Clark looked up, and what he saw then took even his breath away: the sun setting, setting the whole world on fire — a million windows burning in the red light, flashing in his eyes.

He looked at Lois: he was almost surprised that someone like her could find that kind of beauty in the world — almost.

He was taken by a desire to throw caution to the wind with both of them, to pick her up, and fly her high above Metropolis where she could look down to see a million lights like stars in the daytime.

Who was this woman? How could he fall so hard and so fast for someone he barely knew?

She just smiled at him.


	2. I

**I**

"I know I made a mistake," said Clark. He looked over at Chloe. She was sat on the couch in his barn, pressing her lips together and casting a sympathetic gaze in his direction.

"I _know_ I made a mistake," he said again, more forcefully. He stood up, and walked over to the window. "I'm not sure which part _was_ the mistake, but I know I made one."

"Which part?"

He turned to look at Chloe. She had hitched up her eyebrows, and looked almost comical.

"You know," he said, "getting involved in the first place, falling for her, not telling her the truth, I don't know." He paused for a moment, and then added, "_Leaving_."

"Well, you didn't —" Chloe paused, and pushed herself up from the couch. "You didn't have a choice," she said.

Clark nodded, almost to himself, and then shook his head. "I had a choice," he said. "I could have told her everything before I left. I owed her an explanation."

"Clark —"

"So I went to see her," he said, cutting across whatever she was about to say. "I went to that bar she hangs out in after work to say, 'Hey, I'm back,' and see if I could salvage, I don't know, friendship." He paused, and swallowed, bowing his head, "I missed that."

When he looked up again, Chloe was making that pained face for him.

He shook his head, "Anyway," he said, "I went to see her, and it was like — it was like she didn't even recognise me. In her eyes: just, blank."

* * *

"Excuse me."

Clark just stared at her. He was stood there, in the middle of the Ace o' Clubs, with his mouth falling open and the world all blurring around him. He had just walked in, spotting Lois at the bar — but just as he had opened his mouth to greet her, not sure what he was going to say, she had slid off her chair and tried to ease past him.

"Ex_cuse_ me," she said again, with a little more force, glancing at his face. "I'm late."

He looked down, and then back up, and she was gone: nothing but empty space where she had once stood.

The world faded around him.

* * *

Clark pressed his lips together, and frowned. "How could she do that?" he said. "How could she be so cool, like I was nothing to her?"

He went and sat back on the couch, burying his head in his hands.

He heard a long exhalation, and then Chloe say, "Clark,"

She avoided his gaze when he looked up at her, and said, "Look, I wasn't sure whether to tell you this, or..." She pressed her lips together, and went to sit by him again, looking straight ahead.

"After you left," she said, "Lois was — well, she was angry. She went through all of your stuff to throw it out and, I guess you were careless or something, but there were some things that I couldn't just explain away." She paused, and let her eyes flick over to Clark, and then back down into her lap, "Look," she said, "I'm sorry Clark, but I had to tell her everything — she's my cousin. I couldn't just keep _lying_ to her."

"No," Clark said, taking a deep breath and nodding, "that's good. It's good that she knows."

It was. He had wanted to be the one to tell her, but it was good. She deserved it.

"That's not the whole story," said Chloe, and when he met her wide-open eyes he realised that she was coming to the part of the story that she was most apprehensive about. "She was — she was really upset, Clark —"

Her voice started to break, as if she were feeling things now that she hadn't let herself feel for a long time, almost as if something had happened that wasn't _real_ to Chloe until she had had to explain it to somebody else. Clark was in the space between wanting to comfort her, and apprehensively wanting to distance himself from anything she might have done.

"Chloe," he said, trying to keep his voice low and steady, "What happened?"

"She insisted I take her to Jor-El," she said. "I told her about your training, and she just — she said if I didn't take her there she would find it herself, and she would be safer with me. Clark, I had no choice."

The world blurred around Clark. He felt strangely detached.

"When she came back," Chloe's voice came to him like a distant echo, "she didn't remember anything about ..."

"You."

* * *

"Jor-El!"

The Fortress shimmered around him.

"Jor-El!" Clark shouted again, from the bottom of his lungs: from the pit of his stomach, where he kept all his fear and his anger at Lois for doing this.

"Kal-El," came the answer, cool as the crystal pillars around him.

"What did you do to her?" he shouted. His voice echoed around him, reflected off every facet of the crystal and coming back to him fragmented. There was no response. Clark looked around him, and shouted again: "What did you do to Lois Lane? She came here, and now she remembers nothing!"

"Kal-El," said the voice, as if, thought Clark, this explanation could be reasonable: "she did it to herself."

"I don't believe you!" was Clark's immediate response.

"She knew too much about you, Kal-El. She understood that forgetting would be the best course of action, both for you, and for herself."

Clark felt as though he were falling, the world breaking apart around him. Lois really forgot: there was no chance at reconciliation, no chance at friendship. Clark no longer existed in her world. He felt as though he were disappearing.

"No," he said. "Lois wouldn't do that — not to herself, not to _me_. You did this."

"I gave her an opportunity to live her life without the burden of your secret," said Jor-El. After a moment, he added: "She was very unhappy."

* * *

The light in the loft was fading. It was late in the day. Clark stood upright, resting his hands on the window ledge, looking out into the sky.

Lois had no memory of ever meeting him. He had watched her, from the shadows and the sky, as she went about her day. She had been working at the Daily Planet for three years now, and was making a name for herself as a journalist. She seemed content, OK without him.

She's OK without me.

He had made a decision then to leave her — there was no need to bring any of that pain and confusion back into her life, back into either of their lives. Lois Lane was going to be a famous journalist, and Clark Kent would fade into the background — he would allow himself to be eclipsed by his alter ego, when his alter ego made his debut.

He felt his forehead crease, and put his head in his hands. How could she do this? How could he live his life without her, knowing what they had? How could he live with his memories of their relationship and the way it ended? — seeing her, seeing all the things she left and remembering her? He was moving to Metropolis, he was going to be close by. How could he stay away, stop himself trying to tell her, do the right thing by Lois?

"I can't do this," he said, shaking his head, breathing in deep. I can't do this.

* * *

Clark looked at the crystal in his hand. He gripped it so tight, the ends of his fingers turned white. Did he —? Was this crystal the answer to his questions?

He closed his eyes, and saw Lois in his mind. Swallowing, he nodded. "I want to do it," he said aloud, with resolve. There was no response. "Do you hear me, Jor-El? I want you to erase my memories of Lois." He paused, bowing his head. "I can't go on with them — knowing. I just can't."

He saw himself, as though he were looking from outside his body, step over to the console and place the crystal in it. The image flickered before him, and was surrounded by a column of light. Clark frowned, turning and looking around him.

"What am I —?" he said aloud. His surroundings flickered: the barn one moment, the Fortress the next. Clark looked around him and then up. "Are you already in my head?" he said. "Is this my memory?"

The Fortress started to break apart, pieces of crystal showering down on him from above. He raised his hands above his head, feeling his heart start to race. "I don't —" he said. Glowing white dots floated before him, obscuring his vision. He pressed his knuckles into his eyes, falling to the ground.

Lois.


	3. II

**II**

This is the last time I saw you.

Clark got up when he heard Lois's key turn in the lock, heard the slight intake of breath as she gently pushed the door open. He realised that she was being quiet, so as not to wake him, but he had lain awake all night listening to her heart beat, wondering where she was.

He stood in the dark of the living room, waiting for her to come in.

She didn't see him at first, walking straight into the kitchen and turning on the light. She turned on the tap and her breath hitched a little as she rolled up her sleeve and peered at her elbow. Clark walked over to lean against the kitchen island, watching as Lois picked up a tea towel and, wetting it under the tap, dabbed at a bad scrape along her arm.

"Lois," he said, and she jumped, banging her knee against the cupboard.

"Ow," she said, and turned to face him, "Clark?"

Clark stared. There was a cut above her right eye, and her jaw was swollen and purple. He felt the breath leave his lungs, and rushed over to her. "Lois," he said again, and gently touched his fingers to the side of her face, over the swelling.

She batted him away with her hands and bent over to pick the towel off the floor where she had dropped it. "I'm alright," she said, although her voice sounded a little choked, "I'm fine, Clark."

"You're not," he said, feeling anger start to rise in his gut: dark, black anger at whoever did this to her, at her for acting like it was 'fine'. "Lois," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder and pulling her around to face him, "what happened?"

She flinched at his touch and pulled away from him. Clark rubbed his forehead in disbelief.

"I just had a little run-in with Luthor security," she said, waving her hand as if it were nothing.

"_Again_?" he said, staring at her. This was the third time in a month.

"Yes," she said, irritably, throwing the towel into the sink, "again."

"Lois," he said, taking an ice pack from the fridge and making to press it to her forehead, "you have got to stop this."

She jerked her head away and grabbed the ice pack from him, "I can't," she said, her voice rising. "They wouldn't do this to me if they weren't hiding something."

"Lois," he said, his voice rising with the pain in his gut, "_look at you_. You're going to end up in the hospital again, or, I don't know, _dead_ —" Lois pushed past him into the living room and he followed her in there, "Lois, it's the middle of the night. I've been sitting up, waiting for you: you missed our date —"

At that Lois spun to face him, her eyes dark with malice. "I —" her voice shook, and she raised her eyebrows, "I missed our date?" Clark swallowed. Lois just shook her head, "Clark we haven't _had_ a date in six weeks because _you_ —" here she raised a finger and jabbed it at him, "— _never turn up for them_."

From the tone in her voice, Clark knew she was trying to keep a lid on her anger. She was trying not to shout. She was trying to be reasonable. He shifted on his feet.

"You are _unbelievable_," she said, shaking her head. "Why don't we talk about where you are when I'm waiting up for you in the middle of the night? Where you go when you just run out on me? Why don't we talk about that?" She breathed out, and raised her hands palm outwards as if to push him away. Then she looked up at him, and said with mocking disbelief, "Were they all — what? Farming emergencies?"

"This isn't about me," Clark said, raising his voice to match hers. "This is about keeping you safe."

Lois just quirked an eyebrow. Clark set his jaw. He breathed out very slowly. Then he said, in a tone that was supposed to be reasonable, "Lois, you can't handle Lex."

Lois's jaw dropped. She just stared at Clark for a moment: time seemed to slow around them.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said, quietly, but Lois shook her head and raised her hand. Then she turned and walked out of the room.

"Lois," he said, following after her. He found her in the kitchen, putting the ice pack in the sink. Then she dug around in her purse for a moment, and pulled out a set of keys. She held them up in front of him, and took off the farmhouse key as he pressed his lips together and shook his head.

"Lois," he said, "please. I didn't mean —"

She held up a finger in front of his face. "You don't know me at all," she said, very quietly, and then she left him alone in the house.

* * *

"Lois," Clark drove at a crawl beside Lois. "Lois, don't get the bus back to Metropolis now." She ignored him. "Lois, please let me drive you back at least."

She looked at him, and in her eyes was deep disdain. Then she just kept walking. Behind them, Clark heard his house start to crumble and fall to the ground.

"Look at this," he said, pulling the car up to the curb and getting out. "If you had waited, I would have told you _everything_."

He jogged to keep up with her. "We could have worked it out," he said, a little desperately, "I wouldn't have left." He shook his head, "Or maybe — maybe I would have, but you would have known why."

She kept walking.

"Do you hear me?" he said, angry now, "— if you had _waited_, you would know why Lex was so dangerous. And then maybe I wouldn't be _doing_ this."

She was gone. Clark looked around him. "Lois?"

There she was: across the road, walking in the opposite direction, everything in her wake turning to ashes. "It's all because of you," he said, "because you couldn't leave it alone." In the pit of his stomach, he had a nagging feeling that he was being unfair, but he just pushed it right back down.

By tomorrow, it won't matter who was right.

"You just remember," he said, as the world fell to pieces, "you erased me first."

* * *

Clark flicked the dial on the stove and left the sauce to simmer as he checked his phone. It was a message from Oliver Queen: "All clear, big guy."

He breathed out slowly, threw a tea towel over his shoulder and sat down at the table. He had felt bad about asking Oliver to keep an eye out for him, but right now his priority was Lois. Clark couldn't afford to let the meteor-powered population of Smallville cut into any more of his time with her.

Not tonight, of all nights.

She was an hour late.

* * *

When Clark looked over at Lois, she was smiling at a little girl. He watched as Lois picked up a ball from the edge of the rug they were sat on and handed it to the girl, who took it and flashed a toothy grin at Lois before running back to her friends.

Lois cast a smile over her shoulder at Clark. "You see," she said, her voice almost too light, "I can be perfectly charming when I want to be."

He smiled, but looked down at his hands. He had been fiddling with some blades of grass, but he dusted them off onto the rug now.

What was he going to do if, one day, Lois turned to him like that and said she wanted to have children of her own to play ball with? It might be years before she did. It might be never. What if she did want children, and he couldn't give them to her? It wouldn't matter how OK she was with who he was when he told her: that would still hurt.

When he looked up, Lois had a strange look on her face. She looked away. Clark felt the atmosphere between them cool, and wondered why.

"How's work?" he said, trying to break the silence.

It was a moment before she responded. "It's OK," she said. "I'm still trying to break a lead on this story about Lex."

Clark forced a laugh, tried to lighten the atmosphere, and then said, "I don't think you'll crack that one, Lois."

She just stared at him. "What?" she said, and he realised what he had said.

He was about to say something, when he heard something in the distance: a soul-breaking cry for help. He swallowed, and looked at Lois — she caught his eye and, reading his face, set her jaw.

"Go on," she said, her voice low and irritated.

"Lois —" he started, apologetic, but she cut across him.

"No," she said. "I don't want any pathetic excuses, Clark. You're about to run off, and I'm not going to be able to stop you whatever I do —"

In the blink of an eye, Clark flicked through a thousand memories of the same situation with Lois: each time she had argued less and less, each time she had been colder and more distant. He put his head in his hands as time snapped back to the 'present'.

"— so just leave," Lois said, her voice echoing back to him. "I want to be alone now."

"I'm sorry," he said, under his breath, to the vision of Lois he saw as though from the other end of a tunnel.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

Clark felt Lois's arms slide around his waist, and she leant up to kiss the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her — her lips pressed against the skin of his nape.

"I wish you would tell me what you're thinking," she whispered into his ear. He bowed his head. The sun was setting outside, dipping below the horizon and filling the whole barn with cold evening.

"I tell you everything," she said, kissing his shoulder through the blue fabric of his t-shirt. "All the stuff which — I'd rather keep to myself." He knew what she was talking about. Lois Lane didn't trust. It almost made it worse that she had trusted him.

"I can't," he murmured. At that she dropped her arms, and he felt bereft, and cold, without her.

"You keep saying that," she said, and her voice almost broke. When he looked at her, she pressed her lips together. "I can't but think that —" she swallowed, and then shook her head, "whatever."

"Lois —" he went to draw her in, but she threw up her hands and stepped back. Then she turned and walked back down the stairs.

Clark tried to follow her. He was back in the loft. He got as far as the last step, and was back again. Each time his surroundings were darker, and he started to feel desperate. Again he tried to take the steps back down and pull Lois back, again he was back in the loft.

I do tell you, he wanted to say.

I write it in the journal you gave me.

The last light faded.


	4. III

**III**

"Tah-dah!"

Clark looked up from his textbook to see Lois standing before him, waving a copy of the Daily Planet. She had an impish grin on her face, and instinctively he felt himself smiling as he took the paper from her.

"Saltech Labs Under Investigation for Human Rights Abuses," he read aloud, "by Lois Lane — this is the story you've been working on?" he glanced up at her, and she nodded. He skimmed through the article as she came around to lean her head against his, chin on his shoulder, arms around his chest.

"Possible affiliation with Luthorcorp," he said.

"Possible my ass," she murmured, "but you know Lex. They're gonna be following that paper trail for years."

He smiled, and then turned his head. "Nice work," he said into her ear, and she grinned, tilting her head away.

"You know what this means," she said, standing straight and stretching out her back, "now that this story's been put to bed, I'm gonna have a little more time to spend, oh, say, with you." She stroked his hair back out of his eyes, studying him, and then leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth and then his cheek. Clark closed his eyes.

"I missed you," echoed in his world.

* * *

"Clark,"

Clark looked over at Lois, her face serious, on her side, resting against the grass in the field. He turned over so that he was facing her, and she looked down for a moment.

"Am I bad?"

He felt the muscles in his forehead twitch, and swallowed as he gently shook his head from side-to-side.

"It's just," she discreetly wiped at her face, "Lucy, and now Chloe. I don't think I'm a very good sister or friend." She breathed in, and only he could hear the shuddering in her breath. "Lucy and I were never very close," she said, "Maybe if I'd done a better job bringing her up, or, I don't know. And now, now Chloe never seems to have time for me, always busy with top secret whatever, I don't know. Maybe that was my fault too."

She paused, and in the time it took her to press her lips together, Clark's heart broke. "I've never been very good at getting people to like me," she confessed, "so I just pretend it doesn't matter, but sometimes — some people —"

"You're not bad," he said. He ran the tips of his fingers down the side of her face, "It's not you". He leaned in and kissed her, kissed her cheek, still damp from the tear she tried to brush away, kissed her eyelids.

"You're the only person I ever said that to," she said, whispering in his ear as she kissed his neck. "You'll always be here won't you?"

Clark almost never realised Lois was this vulnerable sometimes. "I'll always be here," he said, "I'll always be here." And in the repeating, she faded away. He felt panic grip his heart. "Please," he said, "Jor-El, let me keep this one. Just this one, just this one."

He got up, and turned all around him — but all around him was nothing.

* * *

Lois smiled over at him as he stood there on the Daily Planet roof, a million glimmering lights floating before him, the globe creaking behind him. The wind whipped her hair up, and he felt her slip her hand in his.

"This is —" he started, and couldn't finish. He looked up into the sky, where every star was the mirror of a light on the ground. "In the whole galaxy," he said, "this is the only place I want to be. Here. Now."

She just smiled, wordlessly, and put his arm around her, leaning against him in the cool of the night.

Moments passed before he felt her breathe in to speak. "You know, it's," she paused, "silly, I guess — but I kind of have this picture in my head, not like a dream, at least, I don't think it was a dream, but I have this _image_ of the two of us..." she trailed off and Clark looked at her. Her heart was beating, so fast. She nodded to herself and then said, as if it were the most embarrassing thing, "Of us, up there — in the sky, together."

Clark swallowed, and then just kissed the top of her head.

The lights went out.

They were stood on the edge of the Luthorcorp building, surrounded by blinding darkness.

Clark felt Lois slip through his arm.

He watched her fall from his side, falling parallel to the building into the absolute black. Her lips moved:

"Clark."

"Lois."

He jumped, feet-first, falling, falling, willing himself towards the ground. He looked down past his feet. Lois's falling body was the only point of reference in a world of black: he wasn't sure if they were still falling, or suspended together in the darkness forever.

He hit the ground — no, not the ground. He was back on top of the Luthorcorp building, in the dark, alone.

"I want to call it off," his breath came out in a rush. "Jor-El?" He looked around himself, desperate, "Jor-El, I want to call it off." He found himself shouting into the abyss: "Can you hear me? I don't want to forget!"

He was on his knees, searching, fumbling for her. "Lois," he shouted, "Lois."

"Clark."

"Lois!" He turned around, craning his head, shuffling forwards desperately.

"Smallville." She was afraid. She was alone. He could hear it in her voice.

She was there, stood on the edge of the roof, smiling back at him.

"We have to go," he rushed to her and took her hands. "We've got to go."

"What," she almost tripped as he rushed away, dragging her along. "Clark, what?"

They ran through all the flickering images of the moments Clark was planning to forget: the water fight when he was supposed to be studying, the time she charred their dinner after offering to cook, the Daily Planet application, holding her, feeling her heart beat —

"She knew it was the right thing to do."

"She was very unhappy."

The taste of Lois's lips, the smell of green leather. His heart was pounding, harder than it had ever beat, just for Lois.

"You didn't have a choice, Clark."

They found themselves running through Metropolis Grand Central. Clark looked around himself as all the people around them disappeared. The memory was fading. They couldn't stay here.

Lois's voice, looking back at him over her shoulder: "Clark, the General's going to tolerate you, I promise."

"What —?" He looked down at the bags in his hands.

"No!" He dropped them and grabbed Lois's hand. "Come on,"

"Smallville, what are you —?"

"Jor-El!" he shouted. They ran through the Valentine's day party in reverse, into the Fortress. There was Clark, standing before the console, looking down at the crystal in his hand.

"Jor-El," he said again. "Wake me up!"

There was a moment of unsettling silence, and then Jor-El's voice boomed into Clark's head alone. "My son, I thought you understood."

"You're erasing her," he said, his voice shaking, "you're taking her away from me." He looked at where Lois was standing, but she was gone. He shouted into the chambers of the Fortress, "I want you to wake me up. I want this to stop."

"I am merely a figment of your imagination, Kal-El," said Jor-El. "I have no power here."

"No, you can hear me," Clark said, "you're in my brain, you can hear me."

For the second time, or maybe the third, or maybe more, the Fortress fell to pieces around him.


	5. IV

**IV**

"Lois," Clark shouted out into the forest, "he's erasing you."

There was a rustling behind him, and he felt the wetness of dew-covered leaves down his back, as Lois appeared grinning in front of him.

"Lois," he said, gripping her by the shoulders, and wriggling as the leaves fell down his shirt. "You have to listen to me," he said, "it's Jor-El." He had to bow his head, "I'm so sorry, Lois, I'm such an idiot."

"Smallville," she said, raising an eyebrow, "Can you get a grip of something other than my shoulder?" She shrugged him off and indicated the forest around them, "OK? You know I'm more of a city girl, but you can really pick your spots, so let's just enjoy the scenery." She turned and, hitching her backpack up onto both shoulders, started hiking away from him.

I still remember this camping holiday. We wrestled in the autumn dewy leaves, on the forest floor. He looked down at his dusty hands, and the streaks of mud down his trousers.

You were pulling twigs out of your hair for hours.

"I have to make it stop," he said, his voice starting to show his desperation, "I don't want to wake up and not know you, Lois, OK?" He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her down onto a nearby fallen tree.

"OK," she said, pressing her lips together, and then saying as if it were the simplest thing in the world, "so make it stop".

"I already tried," he said, starting to feel frustrated, "I couldn't get through to him. I'm asleep." He frowned. "I think."

"So just wake yourself up," she said, with a shrug. Clark sighed, and looked out into the trees around him. When he looked back at Lois, she raised her eyebrows and gave him a pointed look.

"Alright," he said, "alright, I'll try it."

He lay down in the dirt, looking up at the sky, through the branches of autumn trees, and breathed out.

"OK," he said, more to himself than to Lois, and pulled open his eyes. Lois sighed, and looked away.

You are so beautiful from this angle, Lois: the hair falling lopsided out of your ponytail, the streak of mud running up your neck.

Clark closed his eyes, breathing in deep.

It was all such a blur of light around him. Blue. Sky? No, that wasn't the sky: it was ice. Crystal.

With a start, he woke back into his dream. "It worked," he said, taken aback, "for a second there."

"There you go," Lois said, looking down at him, strangely satisfied with herself.

"I couldn't move," he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes, and looked away from him. "Here we go," she said, "it's Clark Kent's lack of self-belief all over again: I can't apply to work at the Daily Planet, I can't fly, I can't wake up. You know —"

"What," Clark said, sitting up. He closed his eyes.

She's inside my head too: all memories of Lois. This is what Lois would have said if any of this really happened.

No, this is what I think Lois would have said if any of this had happened — if she'd known I could fly, before I would fly, if I'd ever said.

I wish —

"Lois," he said, rubbing his forehead, "I really can't talk about that right now."

"Yeah," she said, pushing her fringe out of her face, "or, you know, ever."

Clark rolled his eyes, pushing himself up so that he was leaning against the falling tree.

"So, what?" Lois said, looking at him, "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," he said, feeling the pain of frustration. "You did this to me," he said, accusingly, "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

"I'm sorry," she said, looking down into her hands. She seemed to blur a little, and when she spoke, her voice echoed around him. "You know what I'm like: impulsive."

Clark blinked, and pressed down on his eyelids. "Yeah," he said, shaking it off. He felt a little like he was drowning. He pressed his lips together, and then said quietly, "I love that about you."

She gave him a wry smile, and then leaned in, and pressed her lips to his, and the world flickered and faded around them.

* * *

"OK, I think I've figured this out," Lois said.

They were curled up together on the couch in Clark's living room. Clark closed his eyes and breathed in against Lois's neck. Lois nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

"This is a memory of me," she said. "This is me just being there for you after you got that phone call from Lana which you never told me about."

Clark frowned at her and opened his mouth, but she patted him on the shoulder. "So not the subject of this conversation." She took a breath, and then said, "Look, Jor-El is going to erase this memory, right?" Clark nodded slowly, and Lois continued: "So, what if you took me somewhere where I don't belong? It's not like Jor-El would just erase all of those memories, right?"

Clark opened his mouth to respond, and then cringed a little inwardly. "Except, for that one time where he —"

_Who are you?_

_Lois. Lois Lane._

Lois stared at him. "You are such an idiot," she said.

Clark bit back on his molars. He wanted to repeat the admonition that she started it, but Lois hadn't had her memories erased by Jor-El before, and she hadn't known that Clark had either.

And whose fault is that?

He closed his eyes. Where does Lois not belong?

Nowhere.

She should be everywhere.

He sighed, and then looked at Lois with a sad smile. "I can't think of anything without you," he said.

Lois opened her mouth to say something, and her jaw quivered a little. Then she just smiled. "Sure you can," she said.

He closed his eyes, and frowned, casting his mind back to the time before Lois had entered his life in any way, before Chloe had dropped the first hint that she had a cousin, before Chloe and he became friends.

The feel of fresh cut grass on a summer's day. He could feel it under his fingers, all over the living room.

"It's working," Lois said, as though from a distance.

He was running: faster than he had ever run before, faster than he had thought a person could run. Smallville was just a speck on the horizon, in the blink of an eye, gone.

He should go back. His parents would be worried.

Where was Lois?


	6. V

**V**

Clark's parents had had this table as long as he could remember.

He pressed his forehead to the cool wood of the leg and closed his eyes.

He liked to curl up in small spaces when he was anxious or melancholy, and the table was his favourite space to curl up. The light from the Sun fell through holes in the lace table cloth and danced in front of his eyes.

He could believe he was floating through space.

He was anxious now.

Mom was busy. It was somebody's birthday soon, or something, and she was cooking.

When he opened his eyes again, there were a pair of unfamiliar legs before them. He frowned.

"Could you keep an eye on Clark for me while I beat in the eggs?" That was Mom's, soft, umber voice.

"Sure, OK, Mrs – Martha," the legs responded. Clark thought the voice should have a sort of cutting mirth, but instead it felt genuine. That voice —

Lois?

As he peered out from under the table cloth, the owner of the legs bent down to look at him: Lois's bewildered, smiling face. "It worked," she whispered, with wide-eyed, self-satisfied glee. She frowned, looking back over her shoulder, and then at Clark, who felt very small. "Who _am_ I?" she said.

"Uh," Clark scratched his head. "I think you're Lana's aunt Nell."

Lois made a face.

"I must be four," he said. "It's Lana's birthday, I think it's Lana's birthday soon."

"Are you going?" Lois said, and then put her face in her hands, as if Clark attending his ex-girlfriend's birthday party in his own memory could be some sort of betrayal. "Never mind," she said.

"Is Clark OK in there?" That was Martha's voice, absent-minded and concerned.

"He's fine." All Clark could see was the back of Lois's legs, as she turned to face his mother. "Here," she said, "why don't I make us both a drink. I mean, I know it's early but —"

"Just watch him a little longer, please." Martha's voice again.

Clark felt himself filled with cool anxiety as he heard her footsteps out of the room again, back into the kitchen. He crawled out from under the table and looked out at the doorway,scratching the back of his head.

"Where's she going?" he said, and his voice came out as a low, drawn-out whine. "Why is she leaving me?"

All he wanted was to run out into the kitchen and cling to Martha's legs until she took him up in her arms, and told him to be good, and kissed his cheek with her smiling mouth.

"Oh, Clark," Lois said, "don't be sad." Clark just looked at her with big eyes, and sat back down on the floor again.

"Don't leave me, Lois," he said, feeling the tears well up in his eyes: at Martha, at Lois, at losing Lois. Everything.

"This is so screwed up," she said. At that, Clark didn't think he would be able to stop himself crying. He searched for the cool wood of the table leg, and leaned his head against it with a thunk.

It splintered, as if it had been made of matchsticks, and the whole table fell down on top of him like a house of cards.

"Clark!" That was Lois's voice.

He heard worried footsteps beat a rhythm into the dining room, and Martha's voice: Clark!

There were splinters of wood all around him, and he felt hands around his torso, picking him up, and arms pulling him in close. Martha pressed her lips to his cheek in a kiss, but they weren't smiling.

Lois's eyes were wide. "Is he OK?" she said.

"He's fine," Martha said, but her voice shook, and her arms tightened around Clark's body. "That table's not as sturdy as it looks." She was fumbling for an explanation. Her heart was pounding against Clark's chest.

She breathed out, her breath stirring the hair on Clark's head. "You know," she said, after a moment, and setting him down finally, "I think I will take that drink."

"Look," Lois whispered, excited, to Clark, when Martha had cleared away the bits of broken table, taking them out to the trash. "I think it's worked. Look, Jor-El's not erasing us."

Clark just started to cry.

"Clark," Lois said, her voice harsher now, "get some traction! Listen,"

"I want her to come back," he said, wiping his eyes.

"I know," she said, like she didn't, rolling her eyes. "OK, but listen. We just have to stick this out, and you'll remember me, right? Then you can tell me everything and we'll start over. OK?"

Clark nodded, rubbing his eye with his hand. "OK."

"And Clark," she said, looking him in the eye. "_Everything_."

He was about to respond, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth.

No.

The world seemed blur and fade around him: the colours running together. He felt his eyes opened, and saw, out of focus, the blurred column of light in the Fortress of Solitude. His cheek was wet.

His eyes closed again.

* * *

We spent so much time in the Ace of Clubs after that first drink, when you cavalierly threw your arm around my shoulder, and led me away from my tearsoaked pain.

Was this the hundredth time we came here? It's not that the memories blur together. I was never bored enough to count.

"Oh, tall, mysterious and inhumanly handsome stranger," Lois said, watching a woman converse with the bartender. "We see each other all the time, and though I still don't know your name — I feel closer to you than any being of this Earth."

"Oh," said Clark, taking on the part of the bartender, with a smirk cast sideways at Lois. "I also feel this intimate connection to you, Cosmo lady."

"I bet you say that to all the alcoholics," Lois said, demurely. Clark snorted into his beer, and Lois clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. He looked back at the bartender, who was leaning across the bar now, but as he opened his mouth, the couple shimmered and then dissipated.

He looked over at Lois, who was laughing, as she flickered out of existance. "Lois!" he said, panicked, and grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her into him.

"Oh god," she said, her voice cold with realisation. "Clark."

"Come on," he said, taking her hand and dragging her out of the seat, just as it disappeared from under her. She stumbled forwards, and then ran out with him through the bar as it crumpled around them. Together, they zigzagged across the street, outrunning the world's entropic destruction.

They ran past Clark, aged fourteen, standing firm in front of the bus stop, as the bus crashed around him.

"Come on," Clark said, pulling Lois along. She was panting. He pulled her into the Fortress for a second time. "Jor-El," he said, "Please stop."

Something wasn't right. There were rocks all over the floor of the half-ruined Fortress. Clark looked around, his heart pounding, and Jor-El's voice came to him as though over an old, broken transistor radio: "I tttoght you unnnderstodd, s—" The scene flickered, and vibrated. It warped, like the image on Clark's first television set after he left the magnet on top of it.

Clark shook his head, and closed his eyes against the red lights and the pain in his skull. "Oh god," he said, when opened them again and saw where they were.

It was the Daily Planet, and the lights were going out.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand again and pulling her along, as desks fell to dust around them.

"Clark," she said, "hide me somewhere else — somewhere Jor-El won't want to erase." He felt her slipping away, and gripped her hand tighter.

Somewhere Jor-El won't want to erase.

_Lois, I didn't mean, didn't mean._

_You are unbelievablet me drive you home._

_You don't. No. You don't. You don't know me at all._

They were out in the street again, by the bus stop, and there was the bus. Clark felt every muscle in Lois's body tense, as he gripped her shoulders, pulling her into him. They were blinded by the headlights.

"CLARK!"

He threw his arms out.


	7. VI

**VI**

Where are we?

Clark opened his eyes, and blinked. He was at his desk, in one of the science laboratories of Smallville High. He looked down at his hands, and the blue t-shirt he always used to wear, then at his best friend, Pete Ross, on the stool next to him.

It was so hot in the classroom.

"Hey," someone tapped him hard on the shoulder from behind, and he turned around to see Lois leaning over the desk behind him. "What is this?" she said.

He opened his mouth, and frowned: this was right, there was Pete, there was the projector, and —

"Good morning, I'm Miss Atkins."

Pete elbowed Clark in the ribs, and, when Clark looked around, pointed over at the door. Yeah, this was right. A tall brunette, in a light summer dress which shifted over her hips as she walked, had entered and was addressing the class. When he glanced over his shoulder again, Lois had folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"It was the first thing I thought of," he whispered, "you said a memory Jor-El wouldn't erase: this is where I learnt how to —"

"I'm really sorry about the air conditioning in here," Miss Atkins said. Clark found himself turning back to look at her, as she smiled, and added, "but it looks like we're going to have to suffer the heat together."

"Bring on the pain," Clark heard Pete say next to him.

As Miss Atkins — Desirée — closed the blinds, Clark heard Lana snort with laughter a little way back in the room. He was painfully aware of Lois behind him, observing this memory, knowing what was going to happen. The image of her in his mind's eye seemed to flicker through jealousy and irritation, and then to laughter: yeah, Lois would think this was hilarious.

He remembered looking back over his shoulder, to where Desirée was leant against the desk at the back of the room. This was too much for him, the first time around. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Lois's smirk, and he wanted to clench his eyes shut — but he couldn't.

There was that familiar burning behind his eyes.

And there was the projection screen, on fire, again.

Behind him, Lois snorted with laughter. He closed his eyes in mortification and banged his head down on the desk with a thunk as the other students filed out of the class. He felt Lois's arms flung around his shoulders from behind, as she shook with laughter and he groaned.

"Hey, look!" she said suddenly, shaking his shoulder. "Look where we are!"

Clark looked up. He was still sat at the desk where he had been before, but they were no longer in the classroom. It was a cool, clear night, and they were in the middle of a field filled with corn.

Lois was smiling at him, but Clark was filled with panic. "Oh no," he said. "Lois, this is bad."

* * *

"OK,"

They were walking through the decomposing Daily Planet building again.

"So," Lois said, "hide me somewhere Jor-El definitely won't delete. Hide me somewhere he just _can't_ delete."

Clark stared at her, and swallowed.

* * *

I was five years old when this happened, out in the fields with some of the older boys.

This is the most important memory I have, and one of the most painful. I learned a lesson here I should never be allowed to forget. Jor-El knows this, right? Jor-El has to know.

Some of the boys had found a dead bird out in the field, and laughing like tricksters, brought it back to where we were playing. It's little black eye stared up at me, its beak hanging open. I started to look away, and I thought its beak moved — to ask me why, maybe. I didn't know what they wanted me to do.

One of the boys handed Clark a hammer which Clark knew he had sneaked out of his father's tool box.

"Smash its brains in," was the order.

Clark bowed his head, too ashamed to meet the eyes of the little girl sat nearby. He could feel her watching him, solemn, and somehow more mature, more knowing, though she was younger than most of them.

Lois had to grow up fast.

"I don't want to," he said, looking down at the bird. He wasn't afraid. He didn't understand: why? To see its brains spattered over the floor?

There was a time when this thing was alive. It used to fly, it used to slice through the air. Now it was bound to the Earth, with its eyes popping out, and blood around its throat. Clark felt sick.

"It belongs in the sky," he heard the girl say. Some of the other boys snickered at her, but when he looked up, he could see her glare at them: always defiant.

"Just do it," the oldest boy said to Clark. "Or do you want me to tell all the other boys how you wussed out?"

Clark swallowed.

No, he couldn't.

He looked down at the hammer, and then threw it to the side. "No," he said. "I don't want to."

"Are you deficient?" the boy said. He was a good two years older than Clark, and he was leaning right over him, glaring down into his face. Some of the other boys shifted uncomfortably on their feet. Some of them strutted up to join their friend.

"I'm not afraid of you, Billy," Clark said, quietly.

"You should be," he replied, with dark malice.

"Clark," Lois said, "just walk away." The other boys snickered again, but she ignored them. "Just walk away," she said, "he's not worth it."

"What do girls know?" Billy said, turning to face her. "You shut up."

He started towards her, but Clark grabbed his arm, "Hey —"

And too late they all realised what was going to happen.

* * *

"I broke his arm in three places," Clark said, wiping the tears from his face as he and Lois ran back into town, where Billy's father worked.

"You didn't mean to," she said, her voice sad for him.

"This is why," he said, and he felt that he was going to burst into tears again. "This is why I always have to be careful. I have to hold back." He choked, "Lois, I'm so ashamed."

"You were just a kid, she said, taking his hand, and pulling him back so they pulled to a walk. He stopped, and turned around to face her, and they stood in the baking sun by the side of the road. She reached out, sadly, and touched her finger to his cheek, traced the trail of one of his tears down his cheek.

It tickled.

He could see that she was trying not to cry herself. He bowed his head. And she just threw her arms around him.

The scene buzzed, and flickered.

There was another hug like this, I remember.

* * *

You threw your arms around my neck, and held me tight. We just rocked, together, at the end of the world: the end of my life with Lana, the last end of my friendship with Lex, the end of everything.

Lois, you held me up when the world was falling down.

Clark felt himself choking, as the house collapsed around them, as they rocked, together. Choking for the memory, choking for the loss of the memory. Lois was fading in his arms, becoming less and less real, less and less solid — and when he opened his eyes, his arms were empty.

You held me up when the world was falling down.

And now it's all falling to pieces.

* * *

Clark saw his life with Lois in pictures: their first date, he was so nervous; their first kiss, real kiss.

The Daily Planet, after Lois had found one of her sources dead for supplying her with information, and cried her eyes red raw.

"Go away," she had said, when she heard his footsteps behind her. She had tried to sound OK, but she was dying: wracked with pain, and guilt, and he had heard her sobbing from the newsroom. She turned around when he approached her, and in her eyes was half-relief

"Clark," she had said, her voice weak, "please go away." He just shook his head, and brushed her hair away from her face, and she broke again.

When they pulled apart, he had brushed away the tears on her cheek, and she had leaned up, closing her bloodshot eyes, and brushed her lips against his. He had frozen, but she had put her fingers in his hair, and pressed her lips to his, and he had relented, and let her, and the world had turned around them.

The journey they had been on, the places they could have gone: the places they should have gone.

The time when he held her after Oliver Queen left for the second time, when she explained to him why, when he should have realised there was only one way to make things work with Lois Lane. He should have known, should have understood.

She knew.

She knew how to make things work.

* * *

Clark felt himself grinning, against the bright sunlit day.

"Come on Lois," he teased. "Didn't those guys on the base teach you anything?"

Lois just quirked an eyebrow, readying the football for a second throw. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she said.

And when he hit the water, and it didn't matter, she ran over to him with the most beautiful grin Clark had ever seen. Lana was in love with melancholy: Lana had never grinned at Clark like that. It was at that moment, Clark had realised Lois Lane was something entirely different, something fascinating.

But as she ruffled his hair, and the crowd disappeared, he realised.

"Come on, Lois," he said, climbing out of the tank and splashing water everywhere, "we have to go."

But she just tackled him to the ground.

"Lois," he said, feeling panic and frustration altogether, "this isn't the time. Come on, let's go."

"Where are we going?" she said, as he tried to pull her up with him.

"I don't know," he said, "I don't know. Just come on."

And then she was gone, and everyone else was gone, and Clark was alone on the football field.

* * *

_How happy is the blameless vessel's lot?  
The world forgetting by the world forgot  
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind  
Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned._  
— Alexander Pope

* * *

"OK, Commando. I don't get you. Half the time you're all meek — yes ma, yes pa — and the other half you're the most overconfident guy I've ever met."

This was the first time I met you as 'me', but I remembered you so vividly. You were almost the only thing I remembered from my time as Kal-El.

"Doesn't happen to you much, does it?" Clark responded, "Not being able to peg someone right away."

Lois stopped walking, and took Clark's hand, slowing him up. He looked back over his shoulder at him.

"But I did have you pegged," she said, "didn't I." Clark nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "you did."

"You see," she said, "because underneath all the neuroses and the secrets, you really are not that complicated." She smiled. "And Clark?" She leaned in, confidentially: "You don't need to know the big secret to understand you."

Clark felt himself frowning: there were still more tears in his eyes. "I know," he said, and it came out small and choked. "Lois, you saved my life, just knowing that." He looked up, and Lois looked now like she was going to cry too.

"It'd be different," he said, his heart burning inside his chest, "if we could get another chance, Lois. I would tell you everything. It would be different."

"Clark," she said, looking away and blinking, pressing her lips together, "I didn't want to forget."

"I know," he said, and he knew he did. He bowed his head, "And Lois, I'm so sorry for believing it."

"It's OK," she whispered. "Just don't forget," she said. "That's all. We can get another chance. Just don't forget me."

And as she leaned in to kiss him, she was gone.

* * *

This is the day we met.

Lois, you said. Lois Lane. I was fascinated: you threw a red blanket around my shoulders, and told me what to do, and who I was. Even Kal-El was powerless before you, Lois.

I remember looking at you, and almost remembering that I loved humanity.

I remember now that I loved you, and I still do, and I will never stop.

But I will forget.

* * *

And just like that, you left.

"Look," said Clark, "the important thing is you got in, and you're leaving."

He turned to face Lois, and the look she was giving him made him wonder. "Because, that's what you wanted," he said, "right?"

"Why did you really get Lex to pull strings with Met U?" Lois said, putting her hands on her hips, and studying Clark's face. He opened his mouth, and she put up a hand, "And don't give me any of that crap about wanting to get rid of me."

Clark nodded, and then said, "You know why."

Lois smiled, wry, and then nodded. "You could have stopped me leaving," she said, "you just had to say, and I would have stayed. You know that?"

Clark frowned.

Lois nodded, and there was a quiet sadness in the way she did it, like that around old photographs of people long dead and severe. "I would have," she said. "I would have said I wanted to work for it."

The earth was crumbling out from beneath their feet, the grass withered, the sky grey.

I wish I could make this last moment with you last forever.

"It didn't matter in the end," he said, and the corner of her lip quirked.

"No," she said, "it didn't." And when she looked at him, he knew she meant it in as many ways as he did.

None of it mattered.

So, she swung her fist, and looked back at him, and said she'd see him around, though they both knew it wasn't true.

But this time, as she walked away, Clark shouted, "Lois," and grabbed her wrist.

She smiled at him, but her face was breaking underneath.

"I love you," he said, as the world finally fell to dust, and leaned in for one last kiss.

She moved her head, so he missed her lips, and whispered in his ear.

"Meet me in Smallville".

That was the end. Things broke, and crumbled, and faded away — memories curling up, and scattered all over the floor, and burning, and then charred: all the ashes, drifting away on the wind.

And then they were gone.


	8. VII

**VII**  
_The more you try to erase me,  
the more that I appear._

_No, you're wrong, you're wrong_  
"The Eraser" - Thom Yorke

Clark felt fingers down the ridge of his spine: light touches against his skin, pressing into his shoulder blades.

He blinked open his eyes, and forgot all fingers and spines and wings.

It had been a long time since Clark felt this stiff in the morning — he almost couldn't remember when. He looked around, and wondered if that was the effect of sleeping in an unfamiliar place: an unfamiliar, lonely apartment, with his life in cardboard boxes at the foot of the bed.

He wondered why he hadn't unpacked them already. It would only have taken a minute. He would have woken to a room full of all the things that made it his, and the nostalgia of memories he locked up in wooden boxes and cigar tins.

* * *

It's strange how some things which feel like they should have meaning — don't. Clark looked at the journal from all angles: it had his initials embossed in one corner, and pages ripped out.

He ran his fingers over the pages, down the spine, wondering where it came from. Maybe he found it somewhere, and wondered why someone would mutilate and then toss it aside.

He found a pen, and then wrote the date at the top of the first page. He paused, and then added "Clark Kent: the Metropolis years."

* * *

Clark decided to take a run, to feel the wind between the wings he never grew, to blow the dust out of his mind.

He just ran, and ran, and jumped, and flew, and found himself in Smallville after all.

Being in Smallville brought back forceful memories of his childhood, and his first love: Lana's beautiful dark eyes as she let him go, and he wondered why he ever let her do it.

It all felt so much more recent than it had the day before, and somehow it ached — but then, maybe it was the bittersweet ache of nostalgia. Clark was never sure which of his pains were which, whether it was best to respond to them or let them be — and maybe now was not the right time to ask Lana for one last fling after all.

There was a woman a few metres away from him, her hand a fish brushing through the waves of corn as she walked. He watched her meander in a way which seemed somehow uncharacteristic, walking away from him now, into the sun, and he couldn't quite make her out.

He hadn't been into the town in a long time now, although it seemed so very habitual still. He wondered what there was left for him in Smallville now anyway: the girl, the town — all had changed, and washed away.

His eye was caught in the Talon by the outpouring of sugar into a coffee cup, and he thought it was the woman from the field again. He didn't realise he was staring until she looked back at him, and cast him a smile which told him how she felt about that. He looked away.

* * *

Clark hadn't caught a bus since the day he first met Perry White.

This time, he felt the draw of the bus's unbearable _slowness_: three hours, confined to one space with nothing but his thoughts.

And yet there she was again: the woman from the field. And, somehow, they sat together on the bus.

"You look so familiar," she said, breathless and ready to clarify: I would never hit on somebody like you. Clark watched the way her mouth moved into that nostalgic, winsome smirk — so young and so old in one movement. She seemed to understand everything, everyone: him.

And somehow he let her go.

* * *

"So, we meet again."

That wisp of hair, the way it rested against her cheek: Clark had never thought he would see it again.

I met you in Smallville.

She accused him of being her stalker, and he just — just blinked, and adjusted his glasses, and wondered, as he shot back a defense, if this sudden lack of confidence was an act.

And it didn't matter either way, because she asked him out, and didn't know why, and he wondered if she always understood like he had thought she did.

* * *

He took her flying — not that first time on the Daily Planet roof, not as Clark. He dressed himself up in red and blue and took Lois Lane up above the Daily Planet so that she could see how the world was at her feet — and they burnt red against the sunset.

* * *

The taste of her lips: so nostalgic somehow. He kissed her: first as Superman, by mistake, second as Clark, his glasses half falling off his face.

He saw her fall in love with both of him, and didn't know what to do.

* * *

Her back to him, her hands on the wall. "I'm glad you came,"

"Lois —"

But she turned to him, and he knew not to talk over her this time.

"I can't see you anymore," she said, the knuckles of her clenched fists so pale. "I —" she paused, "I have somebody else."

And somehow it hurt, even knowing who the other man was.

* * *

They fought for the first time about missed dates, and he knew it was coming. When they were done, and he saw Lois's face clammy and red, her chest heaving from the anger, he thought she was as surprised as him that it had hurt so much.

Then he started to wonder why they had fought so hard for a first time, and worried that this was the beginning of the end.

* * *

Her fingers down the ridge of his spine, whispering — "Are you ticklish?" Her smile against his.

Do you ever feel that we've done all this before?

"I would do it all over again."

_fin._

Author's Note: The main characters in the film find out about their memory wipes. In this fic, Clark and Lois never do — part of my aim in writing the fic was to play with the idea of a mindwipe as springboard into a more "mythos-aligned" future for Smallville's Clark and Lois.


End file.
